


Obsession

by Eris_Apple



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, LGBTQ Female Character, One Night Stands, Post-Reichenbach, Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1115811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eris_Apple/pseuds/Eris_Apple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary Morstan's sister walks into John and Mary's life shortly after Sherlock's fall. Lilith Morstan is wrapped in convolutions and snappy retorts to protect herself from an abusive past and those who love her. As a seemingly ordinary high school teacher and night club singer, she captures Sherlock's attention when he returns, as he is convinced there is more to her than meets the eye. But will his obsessive nature get the better of him and wreck the wall Lilith has so carefully constructed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Evicted

"Mary," Lili's voice was breathless on the phone. 

"What's the matter? You normally don't call on weekdays," Mary mouthed, It's Lilith, to John Watson, her fiancée.  
What does she want? He mouthed back, setting the newspaper down. Mary shrugged. The doorbell buzzed. John got up to get it.

"I've been evicted. Can I come over?"  
"Oh God, yes, what happened?" Mary internally cursed. She and John were going to have to offer their spare bedroom to her; they couldn't leave her on the street. It would be a nightmare to live with her until she got back up on her feet.  
"I'll explain when I come over." The phone clicked. 

"John? Lili's coming over. She's been evicted!" Mary shouted down the stairs.  
"Um... Mary," John's voice was small— in the back of his throat. He and another pair of footsteps followed up the stairs. "Sherlock's here."  
Mary spun around to be greeted with the sight of a tall, thin man with impossibly high cheekbones and dark curly hair. He surveyed the room that Mary had put together carefully a year before when she and John had moved in together with a look of calloused disdain, as though it didn't compare to the dump he and John lived in before. John was stiff and moved to the kitchen to put the kettle on.  
Sherlock sat in the arm chair that John moved from Baker Street to their townhouse, continuing to survey both the room and Mary.  
"Well," Mary cleared her throat. "Would you like tea or something?"  
"Yes." The man intoned flatly, continuing to stare at her, rarely blinking. John returned to the sitting room with the tea.  
"You haven't been invited over, you know, Sherlock." John said, a hint of anger rising in his voice. Mary knew he wasn't really angry at him for arriving unannounced.  
"Well, its not as though you've got anything else on. I'd like you to assist me today," Sherlock's tone was indignant and accompanied by an eye roll.  
"We're expecting company!" John huffed.  
"Company! What, like some sort of friend?"  
"Yes, exactly like some sort of friend! Not like you'd have any idea! That's what normal people do on their days off, have friends over!" A pained look flashed across Sherlock's face. "Look... Mary and I just have to get this thing sorted, and then I can help you, alright?" Sherlock beamed. 

Approximately 15 minutes passed before there was another buzz at the doorbell. This time, Mary answered the door. Her sister, Lilith, stood before her, all of her possessions packed in tow — including a cat carrier.  


"Hello hello," Lilith said, pushing Mary to the side as she tried to fit through the door with her various suit cases and carrier.  
"Wait, hold on one second! I thought you said you were being evicted, not that the process had already happened!" Mary shouted.  
"No, I think you'll find I said, I had been evicted, as in, already happened. Kicked to the curb, this morning unfortunately. No notice." Lili called back to her stunned sister as she struggled up the stairs. "Hello, John!" she chirped, happily once she entered the sitting room. Her smile fell along with her suit cases once she laid eyes on Sherlock.  


Putting the cat carrier down and opening it, allowing a 20-pound Maine Coon named Rex to enter the room, she moved to John to lay a kiss on his cheek. 

Sherlock scanned the new woman who entered the room. American. Mid-twenties. Highly educated. What else? Short dark hair— tells him nothing. Manicured nails, doesn't work with her hands. Glasses. Rings on all of her fingers, but they're cheap. Tattoos underneath her clothes, probably. Friend of John's? No. Bright pink lipstick. She flashed her straight white teeth in a smile that dripped poison.  
Lilith flounced down on the couch and narrowed her eyes at him.  
"Lil, this is..."  
"Oh, I know exactly, who this is. Hello, Sherlock Holmes. I've heard sooo much about you," the woman named Lil drawled. Southern? No.  
"Is that so?" Sherlock responded, leaning forwards.  


"Oh yes. Two years, I heard my future brother-in-law sing your praises. And for nearly all of one of those years, men followed him and my sister wherever they went," she spat. "You've caused me a lot of pain, Mr. Holmes, and we've never even met. I nearly lost my sister for a second time because of you. And a damn good brother-to-be, too. All because at first, I didn't realize it was your fault those men with guns were following them. I thought it was John that was the dangerous one. No, no. It was you, you who doesn't know when he's in over his goddamn head." She picked the huge cat up out of Mary's arms. "Do us all a favor, Mr. Holmes... Go back where you disappeared to." The poisonous smile returned over her shoulder as her hips swayed away.  
Leaving the room in a stunned silence, she climbed the stairs to retire for the night. The three sat in silence for some time, before John cleared his throat and spoke.  


"So, you needed my help.. with, uh.. something?"  
Sherlock smirked. He had been wrong about Mary the first time he had met her. She had a _sister_.

"No, not tonight."


	2. Searching

Sherlock returned to 221B Baker Street, only to immediately pull out his laptop. There was something infinitely more complex about the Morstan family than anybody let on, and he was going to figure it out. He googled Mary's name first, to find nothing but her LinkedIn page, Facebook page. Boring. Typical things that you'd find of any average person. An engagement announcement from the local newspaper.   
Lil. Lili, they called her sister. How was her sister American, but Mary so distinctly English? Grown up apart. Divorced parents? That had to be it. Perhaps then, hacking Lestrade's Scotland Yard account and searching the last name would do it. Nasty custody battles often came with police records.   
Samuel Brown married and subsequently divorced from an Amy Morstan.   
_Kidnapped the younger of two daughters. Divorce came after suspected molestation and other child abuse._

Sherlock closed the laptop. It explains the sister's volatility and American accent. He never understood why people just don't let things go. Surely her father wasn't affecting her here in England, so why the deep seated trust issues.  
He had to hand it to her for noticing the snipers who would have followed John for months after his disappearance. But to think John was responsible for them was just idiotic. He sighed as he laid back in his armchair. Why should he be surprised, most people were idiots, the Morstan sisters shouldn't be any different. 

Lilith awoke the next morning remembering that she didn't have housing prospects and needed to go to work at a new job on Monday. She recently ended her job search and became what she refused to call a "sixth form" teacher — she was a high school teacher. She was vastly over qualified, having a Ph.D. in Human Sexuality and Sociology, but for some reason she was teaching English.   
It didn't bother her, it was a job and would put a roof besides her sister's over her head. Last week had been her first week, and she found it to be astoundingly dull as students were (as they were in her day) exceedingly stupid. But she always enjoyed literature, so she would make the best of it. It would supplement her favorite side job ever, night club singing covers of her favorite bands.

She stretched and walked into the kitchen.  
"Good morning," she said cheerfully, as John raised an eyebrow at her. She stooped to feed Rex some kitty kibble and picked up his water bowl.  
"Good morning? It's 1 o'clock in the afternoon."  
"I was working last night, don't judge me," Lil shot back, putting the water on the floor.   
"On what!? You have off on the weekends!" John exclaimed.   
"I did a lot of research a while back and never wrote an article on it. So, I'm writing it now."   
"Hmm."  
"So, Lils, why did you get evicted? We never did get to that yesterday." Mary came out of the bathroom.  
Lilith continued buttering toast nonchalantly. "Oh, it was something about me living there illegally, or something." John choked on his morning coffee.  
"Hmm! Or something! You know, you never cease to amaze me! Living there illegally!" Mary shouted  
"Yeah, apparently you's are all really big on squatters in this country." John continued to laugh.   
"If you're not careful, you'll lose your green card and I won't defend you in court, you know," Mary warned.  
"Yes, you will," Lilith laughed. "What would you do, send me back to the States to live with Dad and Grandma?" John and Mary fell silent quickly as Lilith continued to cut her toast, humming lightly.


	3. The Club

"You know she can't stay with us forever," John muttered into Mary's ear as he stirred sugar into his tea.  
"She's been here two days, relax!" Mary said, putting her saucer back on the tray on the coffee table. John surveyed the room, as Rex stuck his nose in the cream dispenser. Papers were strewn all over the kitchen table, three jumpers tossed over the sofa, lounging chair. A laptop and an iPad sat precariously on the coffee table.  
"And she's bloody taken over the place!" He exclaimed.  
"If Harry needed a place to stay, I'd let her stay as long as needed! Lil's had a hard life, its only natural she's a bit... weird about things," Mary made a poor excuse for her sister. "Shhhhh, I hear her getting out of her room. She works at the club tonight."  
Loud thumps came down the stairs.  
"So, I've got mic check for an hour, or some shit like that. But afterwards, would you's like to come see my performance?" Lilith batted her eyelashes.  
"You-you're not a waitress?" John stuttered, unnerved by her flirting.  
"Heavens no, do you really know so little about me? I can't stand people when they turn into customers. I sing."  
"Of course we will! And we'll invite some friends, won't we John?" Mary cut John's decline short and one-upped him. He looked at her wide-eyed.  
"Uh... Yeah... Sure...."  
"Great, you know where it is, Mary, darling. Toodles!" She slipped on high heels with colored soles, and for the first time, John realized why he tried to avoid her so much. She was sexy as hell. Not that Mary wasn't but her sister was something else. Tonight for example, she wore a leopard print strapless dress that barely contained her tits. They had to be DD's at least. As she slipped her impossibly high heels on and trotted down the stairs, he noticed she had those stockings on with the lines up the back. Lilith... he thought, like the folktale, definitely a succubus. At the least a test from God.  
"I'll phone Lestrade and Sherlock, I guess then." John said, hanging his head.  
"There's a good boy, you'll be duly rewarded," Mary purred with a wink.

Lilith was already singing by the time Lestrade, Sherlock, John and Mary walked in. The club was packed and filled with cigarette smoke.  
"This is one of those special clubs where you can still smoke." Mary explained.  
"Bloody hell, that's your sister-in-law?" Greg watched Lilith, who was now stroking the microphone like a cock as she sang.  
"Close your mouth, Lestrade, you're catching flies," Sherlock mused. Sherlock was also watching Lilith. She ground herself back on the piano, tilting her head back as the player watched her for cues. She ran her hands up her body as she continued to sing, her eyes half closed, but watching the audience. Lots of people were dancing.  
Everyone's movements were sensual, close. "Why am I here again, remind me?"  
"Because Mary said we would bring friends." John shot Mary a look that would wither plants.  
"Should we find a booth?" Mary asked cheerfully. Greg simply swallowed hard and nodded. Lilith's song ended with a raspy groan that could easily be mistaken for a noise out of the bedroom.  
The group sat, looking at their menus, not speaking while Lilith sang in the background. Both John and Greg had ordered whisky, for presumably different reasons.  
"Damn, Mary, though, why didn't you tell me you had a sister?" Greg exclaimed suddenly, breaking the loud silence.  
"Well, I don't know. She didn't show up until three years ago. My parents got into a nasty divorce and my dad took her to America in the custody bat—" Mary was cut off by Sherlock.  
"Kidnapped," He said, not looking up from his menu.  
"What?"  
"She means kidnapped, not 'took'." John set his menu aside and Mary took a gulp of her martini.  
"Don't worry though, Lestrade, you don't have a chance with her. She's probably got extreme trust issues stemming from all the sexual abuse she suffered..." Sherlock was about to continue when Mary knocked her drink over and began shakily dabbing it up with her napkin.  
"Sherlock!" John shouted. Sherlock finally looked up from his menu.  
"No, no— its okay.... I knew, deep down. She's never really been right since she's come back..." Mary's hands continued to shake as she held her napkin. John wrapped an arm around her. "I just don't know how to ask her about it...."  
"Don't," Sherlock said flatly. "If she wanted to talk about it, she would. But she clearly doesn't, so don't bring it up. And don't beat yourself up about it. There's really nothing you could have done as a six year old, 3,000 miles away. Really, don't be an idiot."  
"Sherlock!" John snapped.  
"What?" The detective seemed genuinely surprised, he thought he was giving good advice. "Not good?"  
"Well, I'm gonna try my hand at it anyway," Lestrade said determinedly, staring at the dark-haired singer on stage. The equally dark-haired detective snorted. "What?" Lestrade snapped at Sherlock.  
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied, his voice filled with condescension. 

_It cost me a lot_  
But there's one thing that I've got  
It's my man  
It's my man 

"She's got a great voice, your sister," Greg said dreamily. John raised an eyebrow. Greg snapped out of his daze when he realized Sherlock shouldn't have known that information about Mary's sister. "Wait a second, Sherlock. Have you been hacking my account again?"  
"Of course I have. Don't bother changing your password, I already know the next one you're going to use."

_Cold or wet_  
Tired, you bet  
All of this I'll soon forget  
With my man 

"I've heard better singers," Sherlock continued.

_He's not much on looks_  
He's no hero out of books  
But I love him  
Yes, I love him 

"No you haven't," John snapped. "Since when do you listen to music with lyrics?"

_Two or three girls_  
Has he  
That he likes as well as me  
But I love him 

"I listen to lots of songs like that." Sherlock said defensively.

_I don't know why I should_  
He isn't true  
He beats me, too  
What can I do? 

"Look, I'd love to stay around to meet her, believe me. But I've got to be to work at 6 tomorrow."  
"You really wouldn't enjoy meeting her, Lestrade, consider yourself lucky." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Everyone at the table shot him a dirty look.

_Oh, my man, I love him so_  
He'll never know  
All my life is just despair  
But I don't care  
When he takes me in his arms  
The world is bright  
All right 

_What's the difference if I say_  
I'll go away  
When I know I'll come back  
On my knees someday 

"Give her my number, alright, John? Have her call me or something. Or no... I'll come back here." Lestrade was babbling at this point.

_For whatever my man is  
I'm his forevermore_

Lilith strode over as a new singer took the stage. Her hips swayed with each click of her heels which carried her further to the table.  
"Where'd the sexy beast go who was at the table earlier?" She asked coyly.  
"I don't know what you're talking about, John's still here!" Mary howled with laughter. Lilith made a gagging noise, only to kiss John on the cheek and whisper in his ear that she was just kidding. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sherlock's eyes lit up with recognition of what his body language meant.  
They made room in the booth for her and Lilith took a sip out of Sherlock's wine glass.  
"Mm, what is that, cabernet?" she asked with a sour face. He simply glared at her.  
"You know, you shouldn—" Sherlock started to speak in his signature 'deduction' voice before Lilith cut him off sharply.  
"Sherlock, you're much more handsome when you don't open that big blabbermouth of yours. Also, if we wanted your opinions on things we'd ask. Which I don't recall anybody doing." Her tone was curt. "Ugh, I am absolutely exhausted, teaching the kiddies and singing in one night! I'll sleep like a kitty tonight, I'm sure. Well, I'm off, enjoy your evenings, you party animal Europeans!" She swept on a faux fur cape and sauntered off towards the back exit.  
Both John and Mary guffawed at Sherlock, who was opening and closing his mouth, not unlike a fish out of water. If Sherlock was sure of anything now, he was going to tear Lilith to pieces, just like he did so many others. He just wasn't sure how. Yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italicized bit is Regina Spektor's version of 'My Man' from Boardwalk Empire. You can find it here:
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kTCE5Sc7F8


	4. The Lovesong of J.Alfred Prufrock

"Pleease!" Lilith begged. A cellphone went off. "You aren't even supposed to have those on in class!"  
"Miss, stop being so uptight!" A voice called from the back.   
"I wouldn't be uptight if you's would just listen! T.S. Eliot is one of the greatest American poets ever, no matter how much of an ass he really was," Lilith's voice was pleading. She unbuttoned her cardigan. "It's spring, should we open a window?" She opened it before anybody could say no.   
"Now everyone shut up and listen." She shouted. "Get the texts out your school has so lovingly provided and turn to the reading from last night. I'll start reading and then we'll popcorn it off from there, alright?" The students groaned.   
Lilith began to read:  
" LET us go then, you and I,   
When the evening is spread out against the sky   
Like a patient etherized upon a table;   
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,   
The muttering retreats   
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels   
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:   
Streets that follow like a tedious argument   
Of insidious intent   
To lead you to an overwhelming question….   
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”   
Let us go and make our visit...." 

The poem was disrupted by her calling a student's name. "James, your turn!" James continued reading. Each student took their turn through the long and beautiful poem, none reading it as well as Lilith. Unbeknownst to anyone in the class, a certain Mr. Sherlock Holmes sat in the school courtyard underneath Room 16C's open window, listening to the reading of The Lovesong of J.Alfred Prufrock.   
He was interested to learn that she had a fondness for T.S. Eliot the _British_ poet. She didn't seem the type to be interested in books or learning. She was an idiot, after all, a person of average intelligence, and furthermore, a woman who enjoyed bodily pleasures, something that he in particular disdained— they were a distraction.   
He followed her when she went to lunch with her colleagues. She sat quietly, laughing at their jokes, inserting comments about politics, comparing American culture to British, average. Average, average, average. Boring!  
Why was he following her? What had he hoped to gain by this fishing expedition? He felt a twinge of doubt in his own motivations. He thought for a second after her scolding him that she'd be interesting. She wasn't, she was simply as normal as her sister. Less clever than her sister, even. Through no fault of her own, everyone normal was boring. He hailed a cab back to Baker Street.

Lilith returned to her sister's flat without much success in getting a debate going on Prufrock. Nobody else seemed to think that conversations about Michelangelo were supposed to represent mundane chatter. It was the time period! They wouldn't think outside of their century. Lilith sighed as she removed her heels.  
John and Mary wouldn't be back from the clinic for several hours, they had the average work day, 9-5.  
"We'll have to entertain ourselves, Rex," she said to the purring Maine Coon, who curled his tail about her legs. For the first time, she noticed that Mary had moved her mother's upright piano into the parlor. She remembered banging on it when she was a child, she wondered if Mary had ever learned to play.  
She softly fingered the keys, pressing out a tune that she would play at the club before sitting down on the stool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem they're reading is called 'The Lovesong of J.Alfred Prufrock' by T.S. Eliot. The reason Lilith says he's an American is because he was born in America and went to school there but later moved to England. You can listen to the amazing Anthony Hopkins read it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLNsPhKlucY


	5. Followed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of course (Sherlock and the characters from the show). I should have mentioned that before.

Lilith didn't invite anybody to the club, knowing that Sherlock would be one of the people that John invited along. The bastard followed her to work for a whole week, and she pretended like she didn't notice him sitting in the courtyard. He was conspicuous. Even in nice spring weather, he wouldn't put a t-shirt on, _of course_ she would notice him. So never one to overly enjoy conflict, she left everyone alone. 

She started her set, only four hours as usual. This week she chose Regina Spektor's sultry and quirky lyrics. They reminded her of New York, her American home away from home. Lil pushed the twinge in her heart to the back of her mind. It wouldn't do to be homesick. 

By the time she finished "Back of a Truck", she spotted him in the crowd. Six minutes into her set, and there he was. Sherlock Holmes, in his blasted purple shirt and suit jacket, sipping scotch out of a tumbler at the bar.

She knew exactly what she would sing next.

Sherlock watched Lilith sing, ignoring the girl trying to chat in his ear. She kept singing sexily, trying to tempt her audience with her body. He rolled his eyes, this girl was rapidly becoming less interesting than Mary. 

The piano stopped as the song finished, but didn't start as Lilith picked the microphone back up and took the pianist's seat. Sherlock stood up out of his chair to sit in one of the padded, velvet armchairs right in front of the stage. He wasn't going to hide tonight. His eyes flashed to the stage again as Lilith's small hand, clutching a drum stick whacked the piano furiously as she played the occasional chord.

She made eye contact with him and didn't break it as she started to sing.

" _Poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone  
You wish that they hadn't, you don't wanna be alone  
But they wanna kiss and they got homes of their own  
Poor little rich boy all the couples have gone, they've gone, they've gone_"

Sherlock kept his eyes on her, searching her face. It was clear this song was meant for him. 

_You don't love your girlfriend_ She finished breathlessly. Sherlock didn't have a girlfriend. Maybe it wasn't meant for him after all. No, it had to be! Wait, why did it have to be? Did he want it to be? Frustrated at his own confusion, he stood and with a flourish of his coattails, he left the club.

Lilith smiled into the microphone as she crooned out the last notes. She had the desired effect on him. A little sexuality went a long way. Sing a song to a man and he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

It took another two hours before her set was done, but it passed quickly knowing she wasn't being observed by a stalker. 

"G'night, Mark," she said, kissing him gently on the cheek.   
"G'night, darlin'," Mark responded in his usual high pitched and camp voice. Lilith meant to ask him to hang out with her more often, he seemed fun and interesting and not interested in her, something that was always a welcome break. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" He laughed as she poked him in the ribs.  
"That doesn't rule out much, does it," she giggled, pulling on her cardigan and slipping on some flats.

Outside of the pub door sat a plain black car with unusually dark windows. Lilith looked at it sideways before continuing on her way.

"Excuse me, Ms. Morstan!" A tall woman with light brown hair had gotten out of the car. "You're to come with me."  
"It's Lilith Brown, actually." Lilith eyed the woman up and down. She wore a plain black business suit and minimal make-up. She was gorgeous. "What if I say no? I take it this isn't some taxi-cab ride."  
"Please, Ms. Brown, this way." The woman simply smiled softly and motioned to the car. Lilith knew she would regret it, but she got in anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find and listen to Back of a Truck here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yRMWdos4QYs
> 
> Find and Listen to Poor Little Rich Boy here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PLrXetsLFPE


	6. A Clandestine Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, I own none of the characters except for my own.

"So may I ask your name?" Lilith asked the now texting woman. The woman simply looked at her and smiled.  
"Anthea," she said tentatively. Lilith simply allowed a small noise of acknowledgement come from her throat as she surveyed the passing surroundings. It had been three years since Lilith moved back to London, and still she did not recognize any of it. With the roundabouts and quicker move from heart of the city to boroughs, she became confused with locations much more quickly than when she was in America. That's why she never got her license here, simply chose to walk or use the much better public transport. 

"Where are we going?" She asked, knowing an answer was unlikely to come.  
"You'll see." The car pulled up to some sort of industrial building, tall, many stories. It was akin to a parking garage. Lilith looked at it with disbelief. Some weirdo brought her to a remote _parking garage_ for an unknown reason. She may as well just get murdered here, its prime location. Anthea looked to her expectantly, and Lilith looked at her with annoyance as she got out of the car. Was it so unbelievable that she should want an explanation? Perhaps it was just an English thing. People of few words.  
A balding, taller man with a pointy nose waited for her when she entered the parking garage. He leaned on an umbrella as he waited for her. It reminded her that she needed to get in the habit of carrying one around, it was London, it was always threatening to rain. 

"Can I help you?" Lilith asked him smoothly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, below her breasts. It only made them more prominent, but it was that or crossing them on top, which only pressed them into her lungs. Her heart pounded in her throat.

"Yes... It seems you're acquainted with a certain, Sherlock Holmes?" He asked slowly and deliberately. It was like he was breaking it down for her, as though she was to stupid to understand what he was getting at. A loud laugh burst from her chest.

"Hardly!" She scoffed. "He simply seems to follow me around these days like a big black, brooding cloud." She paused, thinking. "If he isn't careful, I'll have to get a restraining order against him."

"Is that so." The man was still speaking slowly. She could feel her anger rising, he acted like she was a child. "Well, if you have no association with him, why is he following you?"

"I don't know. Why don't _you_ ask him?" Lilith narrowed her eyes. He pulled a small notebook out of his inner coat pocket and flipped it open.

"You're quite the hellion, you know. Lighting a car on fire at age sixteen in a romantic dispute. You're lucky to have avoided prison with that sort of... criminal behavior." He eyed her like a cat ready to swallow a goldfish in a bowl. Her eyes widened at the mention of her juvenile court history. The records had been sealed on her eighteenth birthday. This man was dangerous.

"Well, if that's all, I'll be leaving." She turned on her heel and swiftly made for the exit.

"A word of advice, Ms. Brown, stay away from Sherlock Holmes," The man called after her. Lilith stopped in her tracks and turned to look him dead in the face.

"Not that I have any intentions of hanging around him, but I do what I want." She quickened her pace, hoping that she wouldn't be clobbered over the head or hit with a bullet on the way out. Anthea was waiting for her when she reached the road.

"Where to?"

"I believe you already know my current address, dear." Lilith said with a smile. Anthea only smiled back, not glancing up from her phone.


	7. Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing except for my own character.

Lilith locked Mary's townhouse door, rather pleased that she managed to slip Anthea her phone number. She didn't know what she was hoping for, someone who worked for a mob boss or something probably wouldn't make a good girlfriend, or even one night stand.

"I know one when I see one," she whispered into the woman's ear as she handed her the folded up piece of paper she scribbled her number on earlier. Anthea looked shocked at first, but only gave a small smile and nod as Lilith winked and got out of the car. 

"Where've you been all night?" Mary asked her with a cheeky wink. "Finally done moping after what's-her-face?" Lilith rolled her eyes.

"No, nothing fun like that. But maybe you can tell me where I've been. There was some weird old man who had me whisked away in a car to talk about _Sherlock_ of all people."  
"Sherlock?" Mary's voice turned inquisitive. "John, darling? Would you know anything about this?"  
"About what?" John's voice came from the bathroom upstairs.  
"Some guy taking Lil away in a car to a —"  
"Parking garage," Lilith finished. "To talk about your bestie." She shouted up the stairs. John snorted.  
"Ah, yeah, that would be Mycroft." John replied loudly over the sound of the running sink.  
"Mycraft, huh." Lilith said, her voice filled with wonder.  
"Croft," Mary corrected. Lilith shot her a look.  
"Isn't that what I said?"

John came padding down the stairs in his pajamas.  
"What would Mycroft want with you?" He asked, drying his hands with a small terrycloth towel.  
"Who is he? I dunno." Lilith shrugged at him, her shapely, olive hands flipping out gracefully to show him her empty palms.  
"Sherlock's brother." John's gaze hardened as he looked at her. There was more she wasn't letting on to, he knew it.  
"Ohh, I see." Lilith smiled. "Well, good night, y'all. Happy Friday!"  
"G'night, Lils," Mary said gently. Mary rubbed John's shoulder as he opened his mouth.

Lilith shut her door and locked it. Rex was sleeping on her bed. She scooped him up into her arms for a quick cuddle and kiss before setting him down to put her iPod on. 

Having opened the window, she began to roll a blunt on the windowsill. Lilith hated not having her own apartment, but still didn't quite have enough money saved to move out on her own. So she'd have to make do with hanging out the window and using the medicinal marijuana her American doctor prescribed for her headaches. She had a feeling one would be coming on strong within the next day or two. 

"I talked to Mrs. Hudson today," John told Mary sternly. Mary didn't say anything in response, only raised an eyebrow. "She said she'd let out 221C for a reduced price immediately. As a favor to us."

"Have you told Lil this?" Mary asked with a sarcastic smirk. "You saw the way she tore Sherlock apart that one day here. And then again at the club. What would she do as his neighbour? Kill him?"

"Or he'd kill her, more like." John scoffed at the idea of anybody being able to kill Sherlock. The man was, if not invincible, untouchable at least. 

"And you want them to live near each other," Mary said flatly.

"Its not like they have to _see_ each other," John exclaimed, then continued in a low voice. "She's been smoking pot in the guest room!"

"Its prescribed," Mary snapped back. "Look, I know you don't like her because she's a bit of a rebel, but she's my sister, yeah? And I lost her for over twenty years 'cause of my da. I'm not about to throw her out because of a little pot and sassiness. She's more than welcome to move into that flat. IF _she_ wants to." 

"Alright, darling... Let's just please not fight about this." John's voice took a pleading tone. "I love you. But I've really gotta go to bed, I'm on call tomorrow at Bart's."

"Of course. I love you too, John. But blood's thicker than water, you know."

 

Lilith spent most of the morning grading papers when a knock came at the door. As she looked through the peephole, she nearly gasped when she saw the gorgeous Anthea at the doorstep. Dressed in a short black dress and some sort of fluffy shawl, her red lips smiled at Lilith when she opened the door.

"Are you here to whisk me away again?" Lilith asked, nearly breathless with anticipation. Her heart was thudding in her chest.  
"No, I'm here to accept an offer that was made," Anthea grinned at her cryptic answer. The heat jolted through Lilith's core and she took Anthea by the hand and led her to her bedroom.

 

John took his lunch break at Sherlock's with the detective and Mrs. Hudson.  
"Sherlock, what on earth does Mycroft want with Lil?" John didn't waste any time asking questions. Mrs. Hudson barely had enough time to get the tea to the table.

"I've been following her the past week. Since we met," Sherlock said nonchalantly, as though it wasn't bizarre to follow someone around. John just looked at him, expecting a reason. "Ugh, John, don't be dull. You know there's something not right about her. There's more than she's letting on."

"Well, didn't you say she'd been molested? Aren't people like that after that sort of thing?" John cleared his throat as Mrs. Hudson made a noise.

"Who is this?" She interjected.

"My sister-in-law."

"Oh, poor dear. You know, there's a crime show that has stories about people who have been throu—"

"Please be quiet, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock snapped. Mrs. Hudson 'hmph'ed' at his character insolence. "No no, it has nothing to do with that, I'm sure of it."

"Well, what do you want to know about her? I'm sure I could try and tell you what's bothering you."

"I doubt it, but fire away." Sherlock's tone was bored as he leaned back in his arm chair and closed his eyes.

"Well, she grew up in America, mostly. In Philadelphia. Went to school there. She lived with her grandmother and dad. They spoke some kind of German when they were at home. She's always muttering in it. She's got a Ph.D. but doesn't do anything with it, doesn't have the money or something..." John trailed off as Sherlock got up suddenly.

"A doctor?" Sherlock's eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

"Not like, a doctor doctor. She has a doctorate in sexuality or something."

"No, that doesn't make sense," Sherlock waved him off. "When we first met, I deduced she didn't have more than an _American high school education_. It's clear from the way she carries herself, from the way she talks!"

"No, nope. She definitely has one. Its framed in a box in the room we're letting her stay in," John stopped for a moment before something completely obvious hit him. "Why would they let someone who didn't have more than an American high school education teach sixth form?"

"They'd let anybody teach these days. Absolute morons."

"Whatever," John muttered. "Anyway, Mrs. Hudson said she'd lend out 221C to her."

"Impossible, I won't allow it."

"It doesn't matter what you want, Sherlock, I'm the landlady!" Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen. She was moving Sherlock's science equipment, probably to get back at him from snapping at her earlier.

"Anyway, I should go back to the house. Mary was doing some wedding stuff and I should see how it went."

 

When John returned home, Mary was on her laptop, perusing Pinterest. 

"How was your day?" She asked him, kissing him sweetly on the lips.  
"Fine, yeah. How was yours?" He looked over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Hairstyles.  
"Good. We've had a visitor."  
"Who?"  
"Don't know yet, they haven't come out of Lilith's bedroom." Mary winked at him. John grimaced. He'd be glad to be rid of Lil as soon as possible. It wasn't as bad as living with Sherlock, or living with Harry even, but it was bad enough.


	8. The Honeymoon's Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to my two lovely bookmarkers!

John and Mary finally convinced Lilith to take Mrs. Hudson up on her offer of 221C. Much to the chagrin of Sherlock, the move-in of Lilith and the assembly of IKEA furniture began. 

"I hate this!" Lilith screamed, throwing the allen wrench across the room. "John, this is your job." She waved her arms towards a partially assembled chair. 

"Aren't you supposed to be all empowered and doing things for yourself as a feminist?" he grumbled under his breath. She just shot him a look. 

"I'd have Mary do it, but she's busy all being an incubator," she said snidely. "Plus, its not like I asked your penis to build it. You run around fighting crime, you're supposed to be able to at least use a screwdriver better than lil' old me."

It took two days before she was fully settled in and John and Mary could go back to their home in a state of blissful peace. Lilith invited them to a local pub to repay them for their efforts, and even invited Sherlock to appease John. 

Sherlock had already gone through Lilith's things by the time they were supposed to go out. Her day job made it easy for him to sneak into the apartment and rifle through her drawers. 

He didn't find anything interesting, only a bathroom wallpapered in artsy pornography, a box of sex toys, and a small Ziploc bag filled with rather potent marijuana. He stole a few rolling papers for future cigarettes and was on his way before she came home. 

The club was dull. Couples grinded on the dance floor, and no matter how much he loved to dance, he wouldn't engage in that piss poor excuse for dancing. Lilith invited Lestrade out with them, Molly and Tom too.  
Sherlock was wedged between John and Mary and Molly. She chattered endlessly about something he didn't care about while Tom looked absolutely doting. Lilith drug Garth, or whatever his name was, Lestrade off to the dance floor some time ago. Sherlock was bored. He didn't have anyone to fight with.

"Where have Greg and Lil gone?" Mary asked John loudly over the music as he handed her a soda carefully. John looked at his watch and shrugged. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.  
"I know exactly where they've gone," Sherlock grumbled, as he pulled on his suit jacket and got up from the table. His blue-green eyes flashed angrily as he walked swiftly through the back hall and entered the men's bathroom.  
"What was that about?" Mary whispered, her eyes following Sherlock down the hall.  
"I have no idea, but I've got a bad feeling about it. I know that look."

Sherlock squatted down to gaze at the feet in the stalls. One red stiletto. And two men's shoes facing the direction of a stall wall. Sherlock kicked the third stall door open to see Lestrade and Lilith.  
Lilith had one slender leg wrapped around Lestrade's waist, holding up his pants, no doubt. Her head was tossed back against the wall and her half leather, half jersey skirt was hitched up on her waist. Rose tattoos, I was right, Sherlock thought. The tattoos covered the outer part of her thigh and crept along her hip, probably along her backside and stomach as well.  
"What the bloody hell are you doing here!" Lestrade shouted, letting Lilith to the ground. His face was smeared with her blood red lipstick.  
"Well, it was a good start, Greg, but I'm fucking done. I'm outtie," Lilith growled, grabbing her purse off the hook on the back of the stall door. She stormed out of the bathroom, stopping to slam a 100 pound note on the table, but not stopping to grab her coat from her sister's table. She continued to tug down her skirt as she flung the door to the bar open and hailed a cab. 

"What the hell was going on there?" John stood up, accusing Sherlock, who ignored him and left the bar as well. Greg cleared his throat. "Greg?"  
"Uh... Sherlock kinda caught me and Lil..."  
"Jesus, mate." John slid back into his chair.  
"Hey, in my defence, she started it, she just pulled me in there... and..." Greg was blushing furiously. He felt like a schoolboy who had been caught wanking. That was quite near the case. Mary burst out laughing.  
"Of course she did! That's what she does." Mary added quickly when she saw the look of horror on his face, "She hasn't done it lately though, she just broke up with a girlfriend, she just got back in the dating pool."  
"Girlfriend..." Now it was Greg's turn to sink back into a chair.  
"Yeah, I take it she didn't tell you, she's bisexual?" This drew a groan from Greg.  
"That's so hot."

 

Lilith poured herself a cup of tea, even though she was fuming. She hated that John had recommended this apartment. It meant she had to live in close proximity to the man that had ruined the one night she had a chance at getting laid. Good lord, it had been two months of just her and various vibrators and Lord knows that was getting old. It's not as though she heard from Anthea ever again.  


She could hear the knob turning. It was probably Mary, come to check on her to make sure everything was alright. She strode into the living room to find Sherlock, with his infuriating face and tight purple shirt and black pants waiting for her.  


"What the fuck do you want?"  
"Aren't you going to ask how I got in?" he asked, smile playing on his lips.  
"No. Now get out."  
"No." His face turned deadly serious. "Do you know why I followed you and Lestrade into the bathroom?"  
"Because, you're obnoxious. Now get out."  
"No," said Sherlock slowly. "Because I'm obsessed with you." He took a step forward. Lilith took a step back. "Ever since I heard you reading poetry, I realized, you weren't what you seemed. And I knew.... I knew..." The look in his eyes was predatory.  


"Knew what, that you would ruin all of my relationships before they even started? You have no right you know! No right to be in my apartment, no right to follow me around, like... like, a lovesick child!" Her voice was growing shrill. "Get out!" She screamed. Sherlock took another step forward and she took another step back, her fingertips, brushing against the small end table that held a vase of flowers. With a lightning fast motion, she took the vase and threw it at the ground beside him.  


"No..." he whispered, now face to face with her. "I think you know too. Know that you desire me, just as I want you..." He crushed his lips to hers, taking her in his arms and lifting her onto the end table.  


Her hands found his hair and tugged gently, pulling his mouth away from hers. She kissed down the long, white column of his neck to the hollow in between his collarbones, licking and sucking the heart beat that pulsed there. He groaned and untucked his shirt, while Lilith made quick work of the buttons. Her skirt was hiked up around her hips, with the lace panties she wore earlier that evening discarded in the lavatory of the pub. The end table thudded against the wall as Sherlock bucked his hips against hers at the sight of her neatly trimmed, but unshaved pubic hair.  


Lilith unzipped his pants and pulled him out of his trousers, stroking him hard a few times. The gasp emitted was guttural and animalistic as he slickened his length with her wetness before thrusting completely inside of her. She cried out, throwing her head back, and Sherlock took the opportunity bury his head in the crook of her neck, licking, sucking, biting.  


"I'm obsessed with you, don't you see?" He panted as he thrust into her, the end table continuing to knock against the wall. "You're like a drug, from that damn lipstick to the tattoos covering your thighs..."  


"God, shut up and fuck me, Sheerrlock!" she gasped as he quickened his pace to a punishing, almost bruising speed. "God, yes, like that, I'll come! If you stop, I'll kill you" she cried out, sinking her teeth into the tender flesh of his neck and drawing her nails down his back. She shuddered violently as she came around his cock and drew him in deeper, linking her ankles together around his waist.  
Sherlock thrust into her hard a few more times before emptying himself into her cunt. He bent his head down to kiss her large, exposed breasts. He didn't remember taking her top off, but he must have.  


Lilith hopped off the end table, pulling her skirt off in the process. She was completely naked in front of him for the first time, and he could see the semen, _his semen_ glistening on the insides of her thighs as she retrieved her previously discarded cup of tea.  


"I'm going to take a shower. I'm assuming since you let yourself in, you can show yourself out," she called back to him casually. 

 

John and Mary walked half way back to 221 B/C Baker Street before they needed to hail a cab for a tired Mary. John started to protest, but was cut off by Mary.

"She's my only living relative, I've gotta at least make sure she hasn't thrown herself in front of a car," Mary laughed. "Sherlock will probably drive her insane enough to do that you know... If he keeps this up."

Mrs. Hudson was on the landing with a pot in hand. 

"John! John! Thank goodness you're here! Your sister isn't here, but I heard screaming and glass smash in the apartment... I think we've had a break in!" The old woman brandished the pot like a weapon and pointed at the slightly open door of 221C.

"Oh, god, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, you stay here," John warned, taking the pot from Mrs. Hudson as protection. He knew he should have brought his gun coming to Sherlock's flat. He tiptoed towards the door, examining the frame. It didn't look like forced entry. 

John flung the door open to see Lilith with her head thrown back and mouth in an "O" shape with Sherlock in between her bare legs. His shirt was clearly open, and his head buried in her neck. There was glass on the floor. 

John quickly closed the door.

"Yeah, its fine. Don't worry Mrs. Hudson. But don't go in there, okay?" Grabbing Mary by the hand, he drug her out the door. 

"Wot! Wot was that?" Mary was now laughing at his facial expression.  
"I am going to say this once, and I am never going to repeat it. Ever. Its going to be erased from my memory."  
"What could have been so bad!" Mary's smile was fading; worry beginning to show on her face.  
"I just walked in on Lilith and Sherlock fucking." Mary clapped her hand to her mouth, trying (and failing) to stifle her laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry the formatting is kind of weird, I haven't quite figured everything out yet. Lemme know what you think! My first work ever!


End file.
